


My Half

by EonAO3



Series: Picture Perfect [4]
Category: Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Celebrity Crush, Dating, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Humor, Love Stories, Reader-Insert, Relationship(s), Romantic Fluff, Sebastian Stan - Freeform, Sebastian Stan/Reader - Freeform, Sebatian Stan, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:58:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7502172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3





	My Half

Sitting on the floor of the walk-in closet of the master bedroom, you realized there were a few details that needed to be hashed out. First and foremost, the damned thermostat setting. You dug through an open box, searching for something warmer than your tank top and shorts. Coming up empty handed, you rose up to your knees and yanked a dark gray, zip-up hoodie off one of the hangers above you. The sleeves ended below your fingertips and the whole sweatshirt was about two sizes too large, but the fleece of the worn-in hoodie was still soft and, when you turned your face into the shoulder, as you settled back down onto the floor, it smelled like your boyfriend, Sebastian Stan. And it made you smile like an idiot. There was a knock on the doorframe and you looked up, as you bunched up the hoodie's sleeves a bit to find your hands.

"I have one just like that," Sebastian smiled.

"What an amazing coincidence," you smiled back.

Sebastian slinked into the closet with a pair of long, sliding steps along the carpet. "How's it going in here, roomie?"

"Not bad," you said, tipping a box on its edge to see inside.

"Did you bring enough stuff?" he chuckled, kicking his toe at the side of a stack of boxes.

"Be nice," you playfully chided. "It just looks like a lot because this closet is so crowded with your stuff." You pulled out a pile of shirts, smoothing them over your leg, one at a time, before adding them to an empty shelf. "I thought you said you were going to have this cleaned out before I got here."

"It seemed doable at the time," he shrugged. Sebastian reached over the top of you, parting his arm into the clothes on the bar and sliding them to one end. "There's more room in here than you think."

"I _think_ , you have more crap than I do," you laughed. "What about my half, huh?"

"It's in here," Sebastian nodded, moving a handful of shirts from one pocket of shelves to another on the other side of the closet. He bent down to peck a kiss to the top of your head, as he reached around you for more clothes, and added, "Somewhere."

You hummed sarcastically, picking up the empty box beside you and tossing it through the doorway to tumble to a stop in the bedroom. "Glad I packed light."

"Light?" he doubtfully repeated, taking the top of three boxes from the stack to put on the floor beside you. "I'd hate to see what you left in LA."

Swatting at his calf, you frowned. "Hey, I tried."

You really did. At home, your house had a large dressing room that was modestly filled about halfway full of shoes, clothes, and accessories. You were slowly gathering a collection of gifts from designers and event couture, but most of your oversized closet was housing more practical, everyday attire. Trying to decide what you might need in New York and, more importantly, what you might miss in Los Angeles was a nerve racking balancing act. 

"It's not that bad," Sebastian conceded, tapping the side of his foot into your hip. "I was kind of expecting more, actually."

"Famous last words," you quipped, pulling open the tape on the next box.

"How's that?" Sebastian wondered, looking over the clothes hanging on the rod above you.

"Well, most of my stuff is for fair weather for living in LA," you admitted. "Come fall and winter, I'll be doing some shopping."

"Oh, dear lord," he said, with an exaggerated look of fear on his face. "I'll have to buy a bigger apartment."

"Or," you suggested, getting to your knees and crawling forward to the shoe rack under the hanging clothes, "you could just get rid of things like these." You pulled out a well worn pair of low, black leather boots with a buckle at the ankle and one near the top of the boot on the sides, holding them up for him to see. "I can't believe you still have these."

Sebastian grabbed the boots from you, holding them up for inspection. "What's wrong with these?" he asked, looking mildly offended.

"What's wro-" you blinked. " _Seriously_? You've had them since..." You trailed off, thinking, trying to recall how many times you saw him wearing the boots in photos and where. "Oh, my god. Since like 2010? '09?"

"Maybe," he mumbled, turning the boots over to look at their soles.

"Maybe it's time to let them go?" you suggested.

"Why?" Sebastian complained. "They still got some miles left in 'em."

You put down the handful of clothes you'd just picked out of the box and gave him a judgmental look. "Oh, yeah?" you challenged. "When was the last time you wore them?"

Sebastian opened his mouth and then shut it again, plainly having to give the answer some thought. He frowned, his brow wrinkling in concentration, before he threw one boot through the door of the closet and into the bedroom. Tossing the other out after its mate, he shrugged, saying, "Fine. You win."

You laughed for a moment, before cooing a heartfelt 'aww' at the small pout that came to his face. Scooting over on the floor, you hugged his legs, looking up at him apologetically as you said, "This must be so hard for you." You fought hard against the snicker moving your chest and the grin on your lips.

"Yeah yeah," he grumbled, nudging you off of him with a gentle bend of his knee and playful push on your head. "Save your fake sympathy for someone else."

"No, I mean it," you insisted, although it would have been more convincing if you could stop smiling. "I appreciate you making room for me. I know it's a pain in the ass."

"Oh," he exaggeratedly nodded, "it's a pain in the ass alright." When he looked down at you sticking your tongue out at him, Sebastian added, "But worth it."

"That's right," you arrogantly agreed, with a sassy waggle of your head as you refolded a shirt in your lap.

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head as he reached up to take a shoe box off one of the top shelves and peek inside. "Don't think you're coming in here and changing _every_ thing, now," he teased, with a smirk on his lips.

"I'm about to change that thermostat," you confidently muttered.

"What's wrong with the thermostat?" he begged, frowning down at you after he put the shoe box back in its place.

"It's frickin' freezing in here," you told him, as if the answer were obvious. "It's like standing in front of an open refrigerator all the time."

"It's not _that_ cold," he disagreed, taking down another of his boxes to check.

You stopped, staring up at him until he met your gaze. "A polar bear offered me a Coca-Cola," you deadpanned, gesturing to the door. "Not five minutes before you walked in."

"A polar bear?" Sebastian parroted, his brow creased in scrutiny. "I thought I told him to get his shit and get out."

"See?" you argued, holding up a palm to him. "It's that damned cold in here."

Sebastian snickered, shaking his head as he exchanged one box for another off the shelf. "Fine," he smiled. "We can turn the thermostat up a bit."

"Good," you nodded. "Because I can't find my mittens."

"It's not _that_ cold in here," he scoffed, rolling his eyes down to you.

You made your point by holding up your arms and flapping the extra long sleeves of his hoodie on your hands. "Ahem."

"You're just cold 'cause you're sitting on the floor not doing anything," he argued, the side of his mouth curled up in a crooked grin.

"Oh, I'm doing plenty," you countered. "You see these boxes and shit?"

"Yeah, I see," Sebastian smugly noted, putting aside the box in his hand on the floor. "I see you making a mess in here."

"Hey," you shrugged. "You brought this on yourself, buddy."

"Well, who knew girls had so much stuff," he whined, looking into the next open box and pulling up a handful of clothes. "Honestly," he went on, taking a shirt at a time from one hand into the other, "how many different colors of the same shirt do you need?"

You got up to your knees, snatching your clothes out of his hands. "They're called camisoles," you pointed out, "and I don't wear them all out."

Sebastian raised an expectant eyebrow at you, as you dropped back to sitting on your shins. "I just counted seven," he flatly informed you. He looked again. "And there's more in the box."

"Some I sleep in and others are for going out," you sheepishly explained. "Some are just for lounging around the house."

"And you're giving me shit about those boots?" he challenged, quirking up his eyebrow again.

"Okay," you said, holding up a finger in your defense, "those boots had their day. Cute camisoles will never die."

"Okay," Sebastian condescendingly conceded, holding up his own finger for your to wait, as he dug a little deeper into the box. "How do you explain this?"

You looked over from your sorting to see the fistful of knee high socks he held up near a questioning face. "Duh. They're socks," you said, cocking your head at him.

"Who in their right mind needs this many tube socks?" he laughed, holding them over your head and letting them fall to sprinkle themselves over you and the floor.

"They're different colors," you noted. "How many pairs of socks do you have?"

"Tube socks?" Sebastian checked. He held up his hand, making a ring with his fingers. "Zero. And I have literally never seen you wear tube socks."

Picking through the socks on the floor, you managed to put together a pair of pink argyle patterned socks and shifted off your legs to sit on your butt and pull on your socks. "There," you proudly declared, stretching your legs out in front of you to point your dressed feet and tap the sides of your heels together. "Now you have."

Sebastian laughed, reaching back into the box for a second handful of socks. "Nobody needs this many pairs of tube socks," he said, throwing a sock at you to punctuate every word he spoke. "This is ridiculous."

Folding your arms over your head to hide from the cotton barrage, you loudly, and laughingly, insisted, "They're cute!"

"They're tube socks!" he reminded you.

"They're cuuute!" you whined, peeking out from under your elbow only to be met by one last sock in the face. "Agh! You bastard."

Sebastian only laughed at you harder. "Maybe if you wore more tube socks," he began, "I wouldn't have to turn the air conditioner down."

You started to gather up the socks strewn about. "You're going to match these all up again," you told him.

"No, I'm not," he promised, with a stubborn sweep of his head, before he started to poke around in your box of clothes again.

You threw the giant wad of socks you'd collected back at him. He flinched at the unexpected thumb on his back, straightening up slowly as the loose socks tumbled off of him. Sebastian looked at the white sock, with baby blue rings at the top, that was laying over his shoulder for a moment, before raising an eyebrow at you and brushing it onto the floor with the others. He shook his head slowly.

"Would ya quit screwin' around?" he asked, feigning disappointment in you, as he gestured broadly over the floor. "I had this whole closet sorted out and you're just in here making a mess of everything. It's like having a kid in the house."

"You have an entire pile of comic books in the corner," you noted, looking down your finger as you pointed.

"Hey, now," he began to protest. "Those are for work. That's research."

"Uh-huh," you nodded, sorting your socks into pairs.

Sebastian went to the end of the closet and picked up a few comics from the top of the pile. "These are all Captain America and Winter Soldier comics," he said. "These paid for the drawers you're putting all your damned socks into. Show some respect, alright?"

" _Me_?" you scoffed. "Show your comic books some respect?" You waved a hand out at him, saying, "Those should have boards in them, bloody savage."

Sebastian snorted, thumbing through the pages of the book on top of the sampling in his hand. "Yeah yeah," he grumbled, with a smile.

He headed back toward the bedroom, with his eyes on his comic book and, as he walked behind you, you asked, "Where are you going?"

Sebastian looked up and smiled, gesturing with the books in his hand back into the closet. "Looks like you got this," he encouraged you.

"So, you're just going to read comic books and leave me to unpack by myself?" you questioned.

"What? I helped you unpack your shirts and socks," he winked, turning to walk away.


End file.
